


Left Out on the Ice

by Sarasti



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Body Horror, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28812738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarasti/pseuds/Sarasti
Summary: A long time ago, somewhere far away and cold, a cruel hunter meets an ordinary youth.
Relationships: Armin Arlert & Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	Left Out on the Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Beware that there are some descriptions of violence and gore in this. I don't think it's anything too extreme, but caution is advised if you don't like it.

_Depuis que je plie mes jambes dans les deux sens  
Je n'ai plus de jambes  
Depuis que je mets le feu à chez moi  
Je n'ai plus de maison  
Depuis que je me rase les cheveux à tous les jours  
Je suis chauve  
Depuis que je me suis crevé les yeux  
Je ne vois plus  
Je suis infirme  
Je m'infirme  
_

\- Klô Pelgag, _Le Tronc_

* * *

A cold land! Its inhabitants wear long woolen coats that almost reach the ground, only their eyes visible on their excursions outside. A few leaves that didn’t make it down in time remain, frozen, on the branches. The people paint flowers on the walls of their wooden houses, to remind them of their existence in the winter and enhance their beauty in the summer. In the long nights of winter, under heavy layers of blankets and cloth, they lie sleeping, and dream of spring.

Not the wretched Huntsman, though. In his lair, it is always warm. The fire of his great hearth is winding down, and his long fingers that end in long sharp nails hold an iron poker, carefully sweeping the embers around. The fireplace is wrought to look like the mouth of a great beast – its iron grille like teeth, two holes in the wall above make for round glowing eyes. He looks in the embers for signs of the future, like his father taught him. Hoping that this time will be different, that they will reveal something that they haven’t before, he fans the embers with bellows to watch them glow bright.

Like every other time the last generation, they reveal nothing. The future is a dense fog where one can barely see one’s own hands. The ceiling of his lair is high to contain his great height, taller than even the tallest men of the village. The walls are made of smooth plastered stone, locking him inside. He leans back into his chair that creaks in protest, it needs maintenance that he is able but unwilling to give. His black hair leaves the floor as he rises to think, his long legs moving him past his bedroom and to the basement door. The shelves of his bedroom are full of great books covered in dust, waiting for eager hands to page through them. It is in that double bed where he wakes up every night - he is nocturnal, he wakes when others sleep. A generation ago, an archer from the village shot him with an arrow that lodged itself between his shoulder blades. He took out the shaft, but the arrowhead remained. He lacks the dexterity to pull it out by himself. Every time he wakes it pains him, reminding him of its presence. Now, the hunter is either dead or very old, surrounded by his wife and offspring. The Huntsman has not received a visitor in a long time, his table is used by him alone.

Why do they shun him?

Because his lair is underground and far from anyone else, because it’s a cold winter and they stay indoors. Because he makes the milk of their cows go sour, because he steals their sheep and hangs them from trees with strings, because he blows into the ears of their children to make them deaf. Because he takes their children away to eat them, because he profanes their holy places. Because every visitor unfortunate enough to stumble into his home – so humble on the outside, so elaborate on the inside – he frightens and maims to spread rumors of his cruel ways or strings up in the trees like the animals, their loved ones gossiping about how everyone should beware the Huntsman, the hospitality of strangers.

He disguises himself to trick his victims to eat his food. It is a weak disguise, susceptible to scrutiny, but it is the only one he has. He wears the face of a young man of average stature, not a friendly or soft face but a hard and angular one, but his manners are good, his impression neutral. It does the job. Do not touch him, for you will feel his sharp fingers and bones in places they shouldn’t be. Do not get too close, for he smells like fruit left out to rot.

He unlocks the basement door with the key he keeps around his neck. The door to the outside is always unlocked for any unlucky wanderer. It is time for another one of his habits, time to go down to tend to his family’s graves, cleaning their stones of cobwebs, shooing out the rats. Spiders weave their webs in the corners and his curtains are eaten by moths. He sleeps longer than he used to, and he feels his legs give out more quickly as he runs away from his deeds. He leaves the embers to their fate and drags himself down the staircase, making no hurry.

* * *

A snowstorm raged outside his house. Armin was covered from head to toe, but the wind spitefully lashed the visible parts of his face. He was out gathering firewood with some other youths from the village, going off on his own to search for more wood. He discovered a great spot and when he had taken enough to carry, he found that the others had left their point of origin, no one responding to his calls. He started going back to their home when the storm overtook him, obscuring his sight with blowing flakes and slowing his movements. He had started thinking that he might be lost forever among all that whirling snow when a road finally appeared. Maybe he could actually reach home, might finally prove that he’s as good as everyone else even though he can’t run as fast or carry as much because he can _find_ things, you see, see what no one else does, until the storm picked up in strength and he could feel the cold biting him through his clothes, and he needed to find shelter _right now_ or he would never prove them wrong. It started growing dark and he had no source of light.

A door in the side of the road. Leading straight into a small hill – some frosted-over windows visible. He almost ran to it. He knocked on the door, thinking he wasn’t so desperate he couldn’t be polite, until no one answered. He tried the handle and found that it was unlocked. He weighs his options – the risk of offending someone who did not want visitors or the risk of letting the frost grow over him outside? He chose the former, if they were angry with him he could at least make amends.

Inside, it was warm and pleasant with the storm only noticed as the moan of the wind in the background. The interior was much like the ones of nicer homes in his village – dried plants hung in the windows, a flower pattern was painted on the wall above the dinner table. However, everything was covered in a thin layer of dust, cobwebs grew in the corners and the flowers in the vase were long since dead. He thought this house may have been abandoned for whatever reason, until he heard the light crackling of the fireplace. He calls out a “Hello?” and goes in. The monstrous visage staring at him from the opposite side of the wall came as a shock. Who would build a fireplace like this? No matter, it is as good a place as any to warm oneself. He sat as near the fire as he dared and took off his gloves and his snow-covered outer coat. This whole thing was making him uneasy, but it was the only place he had.

A system of wires leading from the outer door made a bell ring in the basement. A visitor. Normally, this is where the fun part would begin – he would put on such an act, complimenting them, saying they must be tired after making their way all out here – until he locks the door and reveals his real shape to them, making their death last long or hurting them until – **entirely** by accident – they escape to speak of him to their terrified loved ones. Not this time though. This time, he will pretend that he is one of them. The weary traveler will receive a welcome, food, a place to sleep. They might remember him fondly, or they might think him strange. Either way, they at least won’t fear him. He went up the long staircase in the pitch dark that he can see in, his well-worn disguise in place, and opened the door. A young man with short blond hair startled at the sound. Grey eyes met hazel ones.

“Hello, Mr. …? So sorry for intruding, there is a terrible storm out. Can I just stay here until it passes? I won’t cause any trouble, you’ll barely even notice me...”

“Eren. My name is Eren.” He normally made something up, but this time he’d use his real name. It didn’t matter anyway. “And yes, you can stay here through the storm. This place is big enough for two...”

“Thank you, Mr. Eren! My name is… it’s Eemi, by the way.”

“It’s already gone dark. You might have to sleep here, knowing how long these storms can last. I don’t have any spare beds unfortunately, but I can bring you some blankets so you can sleep on the floor.”

“That would be too kind of you! I’m very grateful.” Armin felt a cold sweat coming on. If this Eren notices, he could hopefully blame it on the fire.

A sly smile on Eren’s lips.

“Do you want something to eat? I have potatoes, bread and the like… You must be hungry if you’ve walked all the way here through this storm.”

Armin swallowed. A short pause.

“I’m fine, actually… I’m not really that hungry. I just want to wait out the storm here and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Suit yourself.” Eren goes into the kitchen, seeing how decrepit it has started to get. He scowled and goes into the bedroom to fetch some spare blankets he had. He threw them across to Armin.

“I’m rather busy at the moment, so I’m going to be down in the basement most of the time. You can knock if you need something. Just don’t break anything.”

“Mmhmm! Thank you again for your kind hospitality.”

“No problem, no problem at all...”

As the door clicked behind him, Armin couldn’t help himself from releasing a relieved sigh. This was going to be a long night.

As the morning came, Armin could see that the storm had abated. Sleeping on the stone floor wasn’t pleasant and his back ached. He stood on his toes to look through the windows, and there was no doubt. No masses of snow blew by, no sound came. It was as quiet as when he had left the village yesterday. He put on his coat, wasting no time in getting ready to leave, and was just about to start walking to the door when he heard the door to the basement click and swing open. The same man he had seen yesterday appeared again – he couldn’t be much older than Armin himself.

“Are you on your way? I think I can tell that the storm has passed.”

“Oh yes, I am. I need to get home quickly, they’ll all be worried about me since I didn’t get home yesterday.”  
“That does makes sense… I hope the floor wasn’t too hard on you.”

“I’ve dealt with worse. And oh, before I forget it...” He dug through his right coat pocket, and brought up a small silver coin, stamped with a rune. He went to the strange man and pressed it into his hand.

“As thanks for letting me stay here. Buy something nice with it.”

“You’re very welcome.” Armin walked to the door.

“...Goodbye then, Eren. Maybe I’ll… Come back here to visit you some day soon.”

“Goodbye, Eemi.”

As he closed the door and walked out, Armin felt the tension he had spent the last 12 hours in finally leave. He didn’t notice, but as he made his way down the snow-covered, tree-lined road home, there was a figure up in the trees, watching him.

* * *

Armin remembered the stories he had heard, sitting with the other children in a ring around the great fire in the village longhouse. One of the elders – a quite old, but still strong and active woman – told of the scourge of the Huntsman.

He was the one who sours the milk and makes children go deaf. He dwelled underground far from the village and lured people in to eat them and tear off their limbs. When they found animals or trees strung up from strings in the trees, that was his work. He always got a handful of people, some dozen of animals, each year. He was responsible for everything that went wrong in the village. If not for him, they would live in Paradise. He was easily recognizable – taller than anyone, dark with sunken cheeks, long hair and nails. If any of them saw him, they must run away quickly and tell the adults. Nothing good existed in him.

There was truth in the old woman’s words. The village was closer to paradise than many other places. Crops were always plentiful, people rarely died of anything other than old age, conflicts were solved through talking and compromise rather than violence, and even if some years were leaner than others, they always had enough to go by. When the plague ran through the area, no one in the village came down with anything worse than a cold. When the nearest enemy nation attacked and plundered, the soldiers seemed to somehow miss the village. The only real violence that ever happened in the village was the fault of the Huntsman. Nobody starved. Nobody had to be un-prioritized. Neighboring villages often came to them to ask for help, and, if the surplus was great enough, they received it. Rumors of its wealth spread for miles around and it was always growing – it was more the size of a small town by the time Armin came into it.

That said, the people there weren’t all that different from people who lived anywhere else. More content, perhaps. If you were different from most others, you received about the same treatment as you did everywhere. Still, you never starved or were short of work.

He had been fascinated, to an extent, by that strange figure that skulked in the edges of everyone’s vision. Did he actually exist? And if so, what did he do all day when he wasn’t causing problems? His curious soul wasn’t sated by the things other people told him. He wanted first-hand experience. One night at the age of 15, while walking home from a relative’s house, he heard a strange rustling sound from the back of a house and quickly ran to see what it was, lantern in hand. As he turned the corner, he only heard that same sound growing fainter and fainter, a dark shape moving far in front of him or possibly just his imagination, the fluttering shadow cast by firelight.

That was years ago, though, and he hadn’t thought of it in a long time. The silly pipe dreams of an ignorant child. As if there was ever a chance that he could do change anything that had been happening since long before he was born. He’d read a lot, listened to his elders. Maybe he’d leave the village one day, find somewhere bigger where there was more to see. He’d only hear of the Huntsman on his visits home or when people from the village came to see him. The same old stories, the same blame. He’d chuckle and think of his childish dreams, maybe feel a sense of loss that he never did find out the truth.

Now that old interest had awoken in him once more. The signs were too many to ignore. The other man’s odd behavior, the smell when he was in the room – very subtle, but he noticed when it was gone. How he hadn’t greeted him with the customary shake of hands. He gave him that coin as a test to see if he could brush against him to get through his disguise, and when he pressed it into his hand he felt it. Armin’s hand touched something sharp, even though Eren’s nails had looked normal.

But why had he let him just walk away like that? Didn’t he attack everyone he met? While walking back to the village, he sighed. He knew he couldn’t tell anyone about this. He would keep it to himself. He’d say that he’d taken shelter in a cave and licked icicles for nourishment. _It was dreadful I tell you, I’m alive by_ _luck alone_. They would feel bad for him and be extra kind for a while, and then they would forget and go on as normal. He noted down the location of the door in his mind – he had to go back there. He couldn’t let this remain a mystery. He wanted to know why the eyes of that monster who hunted them looked so frightfully sad.

* * *

That night, long nails made the pane of Armin’s window shriek. He lived in a dorm house where young people who hadn’t found partners yet could share accommodations while gaining independence from their families. He woke up in fear, his body filled with anxiety as he turned in the direction of the window. A profile much like the one in the underground house looked into the room. It was too dark to see the features clearly, but the hair and the shape of the head was unmistakably like the one he’d seen come up from the basement.

The voice was the same too, albeit spoken low.

“Hello, Eemi… It’s me, Eren. Sorry to wake you at this hour.”

Armin sat on the bed and rubbed his eyes.

“… Hello Eren. What brings you here?”

“It’s difficult to explain, but I need your help. I want to talk to you in private.”  
Armin looked at the window. A shadowy face seen only in silhouette. Why did he have to show up in a place where Armin couldn’t get a read on him?

“Isn’t it a bit late for a get-together? Can’t you wait until morning...”

“Please? As a favor? I helped you survive the storm, didn’t I?”

Armin weighed his options. If he declined, there was a risk that he might never see Eren again.

“That’s right, you did… Okay, I’ll help you out. Shall I let you in?”

“I don’t want to talk here, your neighbors might hear us. Will you meet me by the stone circle outside the village in 15 minutes?”

What was he playing at?

“Alright, I will. I’ll see you there, Eren.”

The face disappeared. Armin lit a match and opened the drawer in his bedside table. The knife he had gotten from his father - he used to carve up slaughtered animals with it – was there as always. He took it, wrapped it in cloth so its shape wouldn’t stand out and put it in the pocket of his hooded cloak. Armin was more awake now and realized what had bothered him – he lived on the second floor. How had Eren gotten up there to look into the window?

Armin moved, carrying a lantern, past through the frozen fields outside the village that glittered in the weak light of the new moon. The stone circle consisted of great standing stones raised in memory of some god or another, hidden among the trees. The village held festivals and ceremonies there in the summer, but people generally avoided it after dark. It was bad luck to go there alone, they said. When he got there, he saw that man again, leaning against one of the stones. He wore a dark hooded shirt and light trousers – way under-dressed for the freezing weather. That faint smell of rot hung in the air again.

“Look… I don’t know what you’re getting at, but you don’t have to wear that disguise. I know that it’s you, _Huntsman_ _._ ”

Eren sighed and sunk his head.

“Oh well, it was worth a try I guess...”

Armin blinked, and it seemed like something shifted and moved in between his blinks. The great dark figure that towered above him now was almost the height of one of the stones. Dressed in tattered clothes that appeared very old, it was nonetheless intimidating in its size and the sharpness of the ends of its big hands. His lantern made its sunken cheeks into dark pits. That knife might buy him time, but would it be enough? Armin gulped. Maybe he should have insisted on meeting him in his room where there were other people nearby.

“Why didn’t you kill me, Eren _?_ If that’s even your real name _..._ Everyone says you kill anyone who gets lured into your house. Hell, why aren’t you doing anything right now?”

“I’m… Not really sure… I think I just...”

A short pause.

“Wanted to see what you would do.”

“Well, you have your answer. I didn’t do anything. I slept, and I left.”

“My turn then. Why didn’t _you_ kill _me_? You could’ve told everyone where I live. You could’ve amassed the strongest warriors from the whole region to find me and kill me. You could burn down my house and force me out into the wilderness.”

“I haven’t told anyone yet, because… You didn’t do anything. Everyone says you’re a monster, but you didn’t act like one. I didn’t want to draw such a hasty conclusion when you were nothing but kind to me. I wasn’t a very entertaining guest, was I?”

Armin steeled himself and looked up at its (his?) face. His expression was in shadow, impossible to read.

“ _Are you afraid of me?_ ” Eren said.

“I don’t know… Should I be?”

“I hope not. If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll tell you something important.”

“Alright then, I promise. What is it?”

“I… Don’t actually want to be like this. I want to stop hurting and hunting you. It’s just that I’m forced to – if I don’t, I feel a great pain burning me… The only thing that helps against it is going to the village to cause trouble. It lessens with every step.”

This tall thing fixed Armin with its eyes, he could feel its stare on him.

“Will you look away? I don’t want you to look at me.”

“Sorry, Eren… I won’t. Precautions.”

“Alright… Will you help me? I want to find a way to free myself, I don’t want to be tied to this any longer. I want to be free. I’m forced to terrorize all of you and I don’t want that anymore… I can’t do it by myself. I’ve tried. You’re the only one I can hope won’t rat me out, since you haven’t done it yet.”

Armin wanted to look down to the ground, but forced himself to keep looking at Eren.

“Please? I’ll make it worth your while, I can give you gold and jewels, if you’re having trouble with anyone I can make them stop...”

“No, you don’t have to pay me. I’ll do it for free. But… If you show even one sign of doing anything out of line, I’ll run away and tell the village.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“So… What is it you want me to do?”

“You can come to my house. My memories are such a blur, maybe talking to you will help me jog it. And you might be able to find out something that can give me a clue to why I am like this.”

“Alright… I will do it, but I don’t want to take such a quick decision. I need to mull it all over first. I’m doing this because you haven’t given me any signs you’re lying, and because I _want_ to believe you. Don’t prove me wrong, Eren...”

“Of course not...”

“I’ll meet you here in the stone circle tomorrow, after sunset. If I don’t come, you’ll know I’ve changed my mind.”

“Thank you. Truly, I thank you...”

And he seemed to _bend_ _himself_ _around the stone?_ and something rustled across the snow into the woods. He was gone. Armin leaned back against the stone where previously Eren had stood and hugged himself, only partially because of the cold. He really, really hoped that Eren had been telling the truth.

As he slithered, crawled and skulked through the woods back to his home, Eren felt a familiar thrill that he hadn’t felt in years. Finally, something was happening. He had managed to convince someone not to run away from him, he could get reactions other than fear from people. And not only had someone been kind to him, the person who had was utterly _beautiful…_

* * *

Later that night, he felt the pain again. There came a humming sound in his ears like the whine of a mosquito but lower, and a drop of blood trickled out of his right ear. He bowled over to the floor and coughed up a thick dark liquid before he picked himself up and staggered down the road. The following morning an old man was found, hanging high up in a tree from long dark threads – the first one of the young year.

* * *

Once again the ring of stones.

“Alright then, I’m here. As you can see, I haven’t changed my mind.” Armin looked the same as the day before – hooded cloak, lantern in hand.

“Thank you. And one more thing… Can you turn out that lantern? Somebody might see you out walking with me and have questions.”

“That’s true, but I, uh, won’t be able to see anything.”

“But I will. I can see in the dark. I can guide you, will you take my hand?”

Armin stared at Eren’s hand. His nails weren’t long and sharp anymore, but rounded and stubby like his own.

“Hhrrmmmm...”

“You trust me enough to come with me to my house in the dark, but you won’t take my hand?”

“Alright, fine...”

Armin took that big hand in his and turned the knob of the lantern. It went pitch black and the moon was too thin to provide much light, but at least the stars were out and the snow made the ground somewhat visible. They walked on the roads for a while, the snow creaking under their footsteps.

“Did you cut your nails...”

No answer.

“Alright then… There’s one thing I want you to know. My name isn’t actually Eemi. It’s Armin. I made it up because I’ve heard stories where the fair folk trap people by learning their real names.”

“Oh… Well, it wouldn’t have done anything. It’s the food you shouldn’t eat.”

“It’s not that easy to tell, you know.”

“Nice to meet you, Armin. I did give you my real name. Eren is what my parents named me, at least I think so.”

“Nice to meet you, Eren. I’m glad I did. Really, I am.”

Eren could see him smiling in the dark and had to turn away as soon as he did.

“But I have some questions for you, if you don’t mind...” Armin said.

Eren nodded. He remembered Armin could barely see and said “Go on.”

“You say that you don’t want to do these things to us… So, why do you do them?”

“I told you. I have to, or I hurt. I’ve tried not doing it. I don’t have to terrorize you all the time, but after a few weeks or months the pain comes back and I have to hunt. I’ve _tried_ , but I can never resist eventually. And I can’t go away from the village either. If I go far enough from it, the same pain burns me.”

“You’ve hunted us for as long as anyone can remember. Even the elders speak of you taking their siblings away when they were children. Why change now?”

“Even my hunts are not what they have been. There is no fun in it anymore. It feels like my time here might be ending. If I’m going to die, I don’t want to do it without having experienced real freedom. I want to do what _I_ want to. For once. And all the killing, all the isolation, just gets tiresome, in the end…”

Eren saw the dark wooden door of his house appearing over a crest in the road.

“We’ve arrived…”

They went inside. It was unchanged from when Armin was last there.

Eren lit the lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and Armin got a good look at his real appearance for the first time. It gave more credence to what he was saying – or he was just a good liar. His face looked like a regular human’s, only sharper and with more sunken cheeks like a skull. His forehead and neck were lined with stitches. They both paused, taking in the other with their eyes. Eren was not a pretty sight, but there was an elegance to those sleek potrusions of bone from his shoulders, those long pointers on his hands, everything long and thin. He looked well-thought out, designed. Designed for swift movement, for skulking in the shadows. Sleek and dynamic, despite his great height – almost a full meter taller than Armin. Eren looked at Armin, less nervous now than before. He was everything Eren was not – soft, unintimidating, appealing. He couldn’t stop the thought of what it would be like to feel that face against his own, those arms wrapped around him, that body pressed against his, from appearing…

“… Right. I’ll ask you some more questions to figure out how I can help you. Do you remember if there was ever a time when you didn’t chase us?”

“I think so. It was a very long time ago, but I sometimes dream about it. I have flashes of being a regular person with a mother and father. That human disguise you saw the first time we met… I think that was how I looked like. I’ve also had that since I can remember. But it’s confusing – I can’t fit the pieces together. I can remember my father teaching and telling me how to do what I do now, but I don’t know if I looked like this then.”

“So there aren’t any more of you? There aren’t any other Huntsmen running around? Huntswomen?”  
“Not as far as I know, no. I’ve never seen any, but then I can never go too far from the village.”

“Would you say, then, that you were a regular person who turned into the Huntsman for whatever reason?”

“That is the most likely explanation, yes.”

“Hmm… Let me think…” He leaned back against the wall, his chin on his hand. Eren had to look a bit off to the side, Armin looked way too good when he was deep in thought. Couldn’t the one who had agreed to help him at least have the decency to be ugly?

“If you asked me, there was probably some very unique reason for turning you into this, seeing as there aren’t any more like you. It could be that you were a criminal and turned as a punishment. Or you could be sent by enemies to disturb life in the village. You could have been forced into it, or you could have volunteered. Do you remember anything about that?”

_It is an honor that has been bestowed upon you, my son. You will be doing us all a great service..._

Something pounded with a dull ache in his back. The arrowhead. He tried to nurse it with his right hand, but that only made it worse. He groaned.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing, it’s just a recurring ache I have...”

Armin looked at Eren with such concern that Eren had to turn away. _don’t look at me like that, damn you._ “I just… need to sit down for a bit...”

He pulled out a chair from the table and put his elbows up on it, his head in his hands.

“Do you want me to do something...”

“No, let me just sit here until it passes, it’ll be over soon...”

Armin still went over to him and hugged him from the side.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you...”

“Armin, I… I’m fine, I really don’t want to talk about that right now...”

He gently pushed Armin away from him.

“Let’s get back on topic, shall we...” Eren said.

They did, and ended up talking until Armin started getting tired and realized he should sleep in the village in order not to cause suspicion. At first, Armin had went along with things to get rid of this scourge on the village – if he could make the killings stop, it would be great. He could tell that this strange person was obviously attracted to him, and wasn’t really above playing into it if it was for the greater good. If Eren had the hots for him, he’d only trust him more easily. If he was genuinely remorseful and wanted to change, Armin could definitely use less pure methods to affect that change. It would still be much better than simply telling the warriors to go and kill him.

However, after spending more time around him, he wasn’t so sure if it was strictly business anymore. They had things in common. They were both alone, for one thing. Armin had his interests – he’d collected samples of plant and animal life and put them up in his room, he had one of the largest collections of books in the village (an accomplishment at his young age), and he very much wanted to get out of it. Few people who lived there shared his interests and views, and he had mostly resigned himself to bearing them by himself until he could move out. Eren had, due to his condition and abilities, seen pretty much every square inch of the area around the village, and was happy to finally have someone to talk about it with. Since the cold didn’t bother him, he could stay out at all hours of the day. He had seen some very strange things out there in the wilderness. On the days and nights when that pain didn’t bite him and he wandered around the area’s less populated parts to pass the time, he had overheard conversations from people who thought they were alone. He had seen the area change over all the years he had lived there, and told Armin how it had. Armin wasn’t just interested in Eren because he was an interesting mystery or because he wanted to stop his activities. He had started to genuinely enjoy his company. _o_ _h dear._

* * *

A week went by. Armin snuck out of the house as soon as his chores were done, grateful for being old enough to be able to do what he wanted his duties were done. He spent virtually all his time outside of work at Eren’s house. They didn’t make much progress however – after one week, it was still shrouded in fog. Eren’s hopes that another’s questions might stir his memories were pretty much dashed after the fifth time Armin couldn’t come up with any more relevant questions. They were going through the items in his basement, but he had collected so much bric-a-brac over the years that it would take weeks before they were done. The familiar pain didn’t return – sometimes he could go weeks without needing to hunt, sometimes merely days – but how long would it last? He decided to ask Armin something important before he had the chance to change his view of him.

“Armin, do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then there is something I want to ask you to do for me. A hunter shot an arrow in my back ages ago, decades ago. The arrowhead is still stuck there and I can’t get it out on my own. Can you try to, uh, get it out for me?”

“… I did spend some time as an assistant to the village healer. I’ll try, but I won’t promise anything. Tell me if I’m doing it all wrong and you want me to stop, okay?”

“Okay.”

Eren lay on his bed, his arms folded under his chest. He had taken off his ragged shirt and his back was exposed to the air. It was muscular, but lean – well-trained, but not to the extreme. His build was still on the slender side, even if he was broad compared to Armin. His back, as well as everywhere else that Armin could see, had stitches in places, seemingly randomly applied. o _h eren, what did they do to you..._

Armin sat with his knees under him, he had washed his hands with soap and had clean sheets and bandages ready.

“Okay Eren, I’m about to start. Tell me as soon as you want me to stop or take it easy.”

“Go on. Just get it over with...”

He leaned over his shoulder blades and he could see why Eren hadn’t been able to get the arrowhead out on his own – it had stuck quite deep in a spot where the arms stretched to their utmost to reach.

“Okay, I’m starting now...”

He took a pair of tweezers whose ends he had dipped in boiling water, and pushed them into the wound as gently as he could.

Eren thought he had a high pain tolerance, but this was a new kind of pain altogether.

* * *

The last piece of bandage was in place. He had put the arrowhead in a cup and put it on the bedside table. The procedure was over.

“Alright, all done. It’ll probably hurt for a couple days, but after that you can probably take the bandages off. I’m glad it was still in one piece at least so it hadn’t fractured.”

Eren sat on the edge of the bed beside Armin, massaging the least sore parts of his back. This was the first time Armin had gotten a good look at him with his shirt off. It was more clear than ever that he had been a regular human once – all the features were there. A lot of them were just strangely elongated and enlarged, as if someone had stretched him out like a wet piece of cloth. He was very big, but more in the sense that he was very drawn-out and oblong than thick or wide.

“Thank you Armin, I really really appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing, it wasn’t a very difficult operation.”

“It’s far from nothing _to me.”_

Armin felt himself suddenly brought into Eren’s strong grip. He was hugging him.

“Thank you. Thank you...”

“It’s nothing, I promise...”

“Hold still, will you?”

“…?”

Eren took Armin’s head in his hand to keep it still. He raised his own head and planted a gentle kiss on Armin’s forehead. It lasted rather long before he pulled away. Armin blushed.

“Armin, I…” Eren buried his face in his hair.

“Should I even have to say anything...”

Armin stiffened a little, surprised. Eren feared the worst, but he calmed a little when Armin slacked again.

“No Eren, you don’t.”

He moved his lips towards Eren’s and placed a kiss on the other’s, softly at first but then trying to use his tongue, but Eren didn’t let him in. He pulled Armin away from him.

“Armin. I can’t. Look.” He opened his mouth. It contained two rows of what looked a lot like regular human teeth, but all their ends were sharp as fangs. The teeth of a predator.

“I’ll try something else...” And before Armin could respond, Eren bent over to move in on his face, opened his mouth and slowly licked Armin’s cheek. Armin felt the tongue making the side of his face wet and warm. He hadn’t expected to think so, but it felt nice. Eren hugged him again, thinking that whatever had happened to him was a great crime, a violation, since it meant that he couldn’t kiss this person as deeply as he deserved, that he is fumbling and clumsy and too tall to reach him without bending or picking him up. Armin looked the very image of the kind princes he had imagined while listening to his grandmother’s stories. Eren’s own form was a horror by comparison, everything down to his teeth were sharp, made to cause pain. He could contort himself to the most bizarre positions, but he could barely caress anyone without leaving marks.

He could see it in front of him, clear as day. A bright birch forest, easy to get through. The ground covered in wood anemones. Armin is waiting for him there, they have secured a meeting in secret, it is only the two of them there. He walks through it, no longer having to hide. He wears his looks with pride rather than shame. He reaches him, they are standing by a stream, Armin starts to speak but Eren shushes him, the situation is too sweet to be ruined by _words_ , always imperfect, never quite matching up with their intent. Eren embraces him, his forehead touching Armin’s with ease, finally on the same level. His hands go under Armin’s shirt and he starts to kiss him, his tongue moving into Armin’s mouth before he has a chance to respond in kind – _let me take care of this, let me do this for you –_ and his right hand moves down into Armin’s trousers – already stiff – and his left up to the back of his head to lock it in place, he strokes him but takes it maddeningly slow and he feels Armin’s grip on him grow hard and his breaths more frantic, he doesn’t stop kissing him, wants to make him suffer a bit, and he increases the pace just a little, and he - - -

“Eren, are you okay?”

Back to reality. How long had he been holding Armin by now?

“I guess… I was just thinking about something I’d like to do once I’m done with all this.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Armin was at first confused, but then it clicked. He looked at Eren, nodded and smiled. And Eren picked Armin up and placed him down on the bed, on his back.

“Are you okay with this? Tell me if you want me to stop...”

“I’m more than okay, you don’t have to be so careful...”

Armin saw this uncanny figure loom over him – a giant that had picked him up and pinned him down – and thought about how he hadn’t expected to end up like this when he agreed to help him back in the stone circle, before Eren was upon him and there was no time for thoughts anymore.

* * *

During the turmoil, Armin had received a bite near his shoulder that left a bloody mark. He didn't mind much, but Eren had been distraught when he discovered it after they were done. He bandaged it up and went home - it ached, but he could come up with a good lie if anyone noticed. The following day, they decided to go down into the basement again. They found something they had missed the last time: A big old wooden chest, stuffed to the brim with memorabilia. Eren had started to collect things he found interesting while skulking through the village ages ago and put it into the chest. Armin sat between Eren’s knees as they took out objects from the chest one by one.

“Why did you collect all this stuff? This is overflowing with junk.”

“I get bored. There isn’t much to do out here by myself. I just started stealing things, and through the years it added up to quite a lot.”

“I guess I’m not the one to talk when it comes to collecting things… Does any of this jog your memory? You could’ve put something in it right when you started and forgotten about it.”

“ _That_ I stole from the healer about a decade ago.” A vial of dried herbs. “I remember it now that I see it. Keep looking, there might be something.” Almost right at the bottom, there was.

“Now what is _this?_ Looks creepy.” It was a doll, about the size of Eren’s big hand. Made out of white cloth, it was a human figure without any features. Blank all over. Eren’s eyes grew wide at the sight.

“That is… I remember that...” His head was beginning to ache and he reflexively put his hand to it.

“I _really_ remember that...”

* * *

_The bony hand of his father, holding a needle. Eren is lying down, tied to… what? A table? That needle has just gotten out of him, it has stitched threads into him. The needle doesn’t go where he thinks it will – the other hand brings out a wooden box and puts the needle inside. The house is lit by candles. On the windowsill sits a blank doll, his sister was going to give it a face before this happened. Then suddenly, the straps are loosened, he is set free, and he takes the doll even if he doesn’t know why and stuffs it into the pocket of the clothes he’s given. His father leads him on through the trees until they abruptly stop – it’s the shoreline. The lake is covered in ice. He doesn’t freeze, doesn’t feel much of anything, as they walk across the thick ice towards the mainland. The snow is whirling through the air, picking up speed. A storm is coming. He looks back towards the island and sees people – a dozen of them – lining the shore._

* * *

“In the lake there is an island. On the island there is a house. In the house there is a box, and in that box there is a needle. I think, if you break it, I might turn human again.”

“… And I’m the one that has to do it.”

“Yes, I think so… I remember it now, I went to the island once, years ago. The pain came to me as soon as I set foot on it, and it increased when I walked further in. Only when I turned around and went back into the lake did it disappear. I think it’s there as a precaution so I won’t go there to tamper with anything.”

“What are we waiting for, then? It’s the best shot we have. Let’s go there right now.” Armin starts getting up to leave, but is stopped by Eren grabbing his wrist.

“Wait...” He hugs him and plants another kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“It’s nothing, really, it’s no bother...”

“Thank you _anyway._ ”

* * *

The bitter cold covered the lake with a thick sheet of ice. Half a meter thick, a herd of livestock would barely make a dent in it. Underneath, fish hibernated in wait of better days. A boat was tied to the shore with a heavy rope, unnecessary then since the ice held it in a tight grip. They could see the island in the distance – the trees that cover it hid away anything that might be seen in its interior.

“I can cross the ice on my own, you can stay here. Just hang on until I come back, okay?”

“I will… I’ll tell you if I feel anything as soon as you come back. And Armin...” He took Armin in his arms and lifted him more than half a meter off the ground. “Good luck. I’ll stay here until you come back, no matter how long it takes.”

“I’ll be back before you know it. I hope I’ll be able to right something that went wrong long ago.” He hugged Eren back. Back on the ground, he started walking across the ice with his boots that were fitted with metal studs for a better grip. He turned around one last time to wave to Eren, hoping he could see him smiling.

As Eren saw Armin make his way across the ice, he sat down on the ground and leaned against a rock. He thought that, if it all ended here, it wouldn’t be too bad. If his life depended on the needle, it ending here wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It had ended on a note of something he hadn’t received in a very, very long time: Someone else’s kindness. The sun made the snow so bright it was almost blinding. Even if he wanted more, even if he wanted to use his freedom, he could settle for this. It wouldn’t be too bad. He had met Armin, he had held him… Maybe that was enough.

Turning back human would come with disadvantages. Never will he walk along the hidden paths where only deer and wolves tread again, never will he dive into a frozen river to catch fish with his bare teeth again, never will he feel the thrill of scaring away hunters unlucky enough to wander near his home again, never will he slither, crawl and contort the way he used to again. Instead, he will slowly wither and die like everyone else, he’ll be trapped forever in his physical form with no way out. He’ll sacrifice everything he has ever known, and for what?

The chance to slowly fall asleep in a forest glade with Armin resting his head on his shoulder. The chance to blend into a crowd, no longer singular, unique, but merely a face among many, distinguished by his actions rather than his nature.

The time for regrets might come, but it wasn't there quite yet.

* * *

Armin walked over the ice as briskly as he dared. When he got to the island, he could confirm what he had suspected on the shore. It was not a big one. It could fit his village on it, but not much more. It was covered in trees of pine and fir like so much of the forests in the area. He stepped on it, the snow crust crunching under his feet. He walked towards the center to find the house, and it wasn’t long before he did. It looked much like one of the houses of his village – brown bare wood, but painted in parts with a red and white floral pattern. It was in pristine condition and there was light coming from inside. When he got near, he could see a mess of footsteps in the snow leading from the door to the shore on the opposite side of the one he arrived on.

 _i_ _s there anyone home?_

He knocked on the door. No response. He tried the handle and the door clicked open.

“Hello? Sorry to intrude.”

No response. The house wasn’t big, only three main rooms. The one by the entrance, with a double bed, a desk and a bureau, another with three beds, and a kitchen where a big table had been put, blocking access to much of the kitchen area. Candles had been lit and placed on every flat surface, creating a warm glow. The desk was right by the window facing the direction from which Armin had come and on it lay a box, also painted with red and white flowers. He tried to open it, but it was locked.

 _o_ _f course._

He went through the drawers in the desk, but there was no key. Should he try to force it open? No, he should go through the rest of the house first… And he found a small key in one of the drawers of the bureau, hidden under a false bottom. He tried it and it opened. The inside was very finely wrought, with carved spiraling patterns. Inside was not a needle, but a light brown egg.

 _a_ _n_ _**egg**_ _?_ _o_ _kay…_

He took it up to his ear and shook it lightly, it was light and he could hear a small object rattling around inside. He shrugged and hit it gently on the side of the table, making a crack. He forced the crack open and he saw that there was a sewing needle inside. He picked it up and held it. He heard that it made a low hum, that it vibrated.

_bingo._

It bent, it made resistance, and broke in two.

A cold wind blew through the walls of the house, and Armin instantly knew that whatever he had done, it had some kind of effect. The wind blew out every candle in the house, casting it into a cold gloom. _e_ _ren._ _don’t you dare..._

He didn’t want to spend one second too long on this island. He knew from the ache in his chest that this wasn’t just sympathy for the devil, that he wasn’t just doing this out of the goodness of his own heart so that both Eren and the village could be free from this curse. He hadn’t understood his own feelings before, didn’t know if it was love or if he was just using Eren to get affection. Now he knew why the affection had pleased him so - he wanted Eren, he wanted to get to know him well, and he wondered if maybe setting him “free” might have been a terrible mistake if it meant that he wouldn’t be able to see him again. _just stay right where you are, i’ll make all these years up to you, i swear..._

He ran across the lake as quickly as his feet could take him without slipping, seeing that dark shape slowly grow in size in his eyes. He stood up when he saw Armin jogging towards him and opened his arms to pull him in for a hug. He jumped into them when he arrived on the shore, overjoyed to see Eren still alive.

“Eren, oh thank goodness! I broke the needle! Did it work? Did you feel anything?”

“I did… It’s as if my whole life, there’s been this low hum always audible underneath all other sounds. It’s been there so long that I’d accepted it as normal a long time ago. Only now that it’s gone can I hear that it was there in the first place. I think that it worked...”

“I’m so happy… The house was full of lit candles when I got there, but they all blew out when I broke the needle. I feared the worst. I’m so glad I was wrong.” Eren put Armin down on the ground again.

“Me too. But… Judging by the fact that you're still so much shorter than me, I’m not a human again aren’t I? I still look the same...”

“Yes, you do. But it doesn’t matter. You’re still alive, and you can do what you want now. That’s what matters.” _g_ _oddamnit_. He could never go back to normal, never know what it was like to be one of them again.

“It does, but… I had really, really hoped that I would become human again. How can I blend in among the rest of you when I look like this?”

“You _are_ human. You just look different. And we’ll figure something out, you can wear that disguise, if it still works...”

“Yes, but… Gah, I thought I’d be happy when it was over, but now I don’t know...”

“I’m happy... Your appearance doesn’t bother _me_ , but I know that’s not entirely enough.” He took Eren’s hand up to his face and gently kissed it. “But we are going to have to do something about those teeth of yours. It would be a lot easier if they were less sharp.” He smiled, and Eren gave a wry smile back.

“I’ll take your word for it...”

They began slowly walking back to the village. The sun was setting, even if it was only the afternoon.

“So, Eren… What do you want to do now?”

“The first thing is I want to leave this place. I’m so sick of this village, these woods. It kills me. I want to see something new. I don’t know where, I just want to leave.”

“Hey, did you know something? I’ve been having the exact same thought. By the time spring arrived, I was going to pack my bags and leave for the south. I wanted to go some place warm… Do you maybe want someone to come along when you leave the village?”

“I could use a companion. I’ve been by myself for long enough, I think.”

“Do you mind waiting to leave until spring? Not everyone is as impervious to the cold as you.”

“When you say that, I guess I don’t have to get away _that_ quickly. I have some chores I need to do, and they could take a while. The whole rest of winter, maybe.”

Armin couldn’t help himself. He laughed. He took Eren’s hand in his, and they walked like that until they started coming into populated territory again.

“It’ll be hard to see each other in public since you look the way you do, but I can come to your house. You can even come to mine, even if it’s less private. I can come up excuses, sneak off when I have time. We’ll come up with something.”

“We will… You’ll have to tell me about the south, I want to hear everything about how it’s like far away from here.”

“You’re inviting danger. I might bore you to death.”

“I can think of ways to shut you up before that happens.”

“I look forward to seeing them. Goodbye for now, I’ll knock on your door before you know it.”

“Goodbye, Armin.”

And they parted, Eren walking through the forest, Armin on the road back to the village. When the ground thawed and the birds came back, they’d make way for a warm bright place. Where they could live for themselves and create something new, where the curses of the past could finally be forgotten.

When he was in the village again and making his way to his dorm house, he saw one of the elders – the same woman who had told him about the Huntsman all those years ago – walking towards the longhouse, the one with the great fire. _y_ _ou don’t see her very often these days, i wonder what’s going on…_

He got into his room and brought out his book about the south with its beautiful maps. He laid on the bed on his stomach – all that running and walking had taken its toll. He opened the book to a map of the area near the sea and traced his finger on it, thinking about which place would be best for him and Eren. Maybe they couldn’t know from a book, maybe they’d have to see it all by themselves before they could decide.

As he laid there, he started thinking about what he had seen on the island. He had been too flush with emotion back then, but he now realized that he still didn't really understand anything, that both him and Eren had just been standing on the ice, watching large and unknown forms move around underneath. That they had only freed Eren from this curse, but not actually learned what it was. He swallowed. He wouldn't give Eren any time to relax, he would go to him right away.

**Author's Note:**

> I think every beauty and the beast type of story presents a challenge: You want to make the beast bad and ugly enough that his ostracism makes sense, but you also don’t want him to be so repulsive that every more intimate scene reads as gross. Too often you end up with someone who looks like an underwear model with horns going “Boohoo I’m such a monster”. I think I struck a decent balance here, but I’d rather err on the “underwear model with horns” side than on the repulsive monster side. 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! Kudos and feedback are highly appreciated, as always.


End file.
